


chosen purpose

by kianne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix It, M/M, fuck the finale, not whatever the fuck happened in the ep, realistic (ish) depiction of death by being fucking impaled and bleeding out, the author hasnt watched spn in 5 years but is Angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kianne/pseuds/kianne
Summary: A voice rang out through every corner of this non-existence, surer than any thought that had come before it.SAVE DEAN WINCHESTERI cannot believe I'm writing supernatural fix it fics in 2020 but you know what whatever have some yearning
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	chosen purpose

**Author's Note:**

> listen, I've not watched the show in like 5 years so like there's gonna be errors in this but frankly I Do Not Care how the empty works I'm just here for the yearning and so are you

The blackness wasn’t just oppressive. It tore at his very being. The absolute lack of anything crescendoed endlessly around him, collapsing in on itself like a vacuum tugging away at his self, until no part of him existed as a whole anymore. He simply ceased to be. Not even an awareness drifting sleepily through the blackness, he just… _wasn’t_.

It would be enough to drive anyone mad in an instant, and each instant was an eternity.

But then a voice rang out through every corner of this non-existence, surer than any thought that had come before it.

_SAVE DEAN WINCHESTER_

Cas wasn’t aware of his molecules stitching back together, or his consciousness sliding back into him, but he _was_ aware, once more. The words kept tumbling into his mind, echoing through the void, bouncing off of surfaces that weren’t there.

_Cas, Jack, anyone, please. Help Dean, help my brother. He’s hurt, fix him, please._

The fragmented parts of Cas were pulling back to him now, as if the black hole was relenting, releasing him. Sparks were flying around him, wind howling, the structure that had not been around him a moment before groaning in protest.

The first thing Cas knew, before he even knew himself again, was that Dean needed help. He was there, just a few feet in front of him, being held up against a pillar of the dank barn he now existed in, his knees buckled and head lolling forwards against Sam, who was clutching him upright desperately, words tumbling from his mouth meant for the heavens.

Cas’ sudden existence in a body again was disorienting, but the gravity of Dean Winchester pulled him surely forwards before he even remembered _how_ to work his legs. This was his purpose. Saving Dean Winchester wasn’t the purpose God had intended for him when he was created all those millennia ago, but it was the purpose he had chosen over and over again, and would continue to choose until he didn’t have any choices left.

And even then, it seemed.

* * *

“There’s some- there’s something in my back,” Dean’s voice faltered, and he suddenly felt very small. His head was spinning, and every wet breath he took felt like he was being torn open. He could taste copper in his throat already.

Sammy was there, because of course he was there, clutching at his arms and holding him up. Dean wanted to hold him back, to reassure him he’d be fine without him, but his body was already giving up, the fight draining out of him even as the rebar still in his back held the blood back. It didn’t even hurt anymore, nothing did, except the wild, desperate look on Sammy’s face.

“I love you so much,” He choked out, and Sam’s face crumpled even further. “You’re gonna be okay.” There was more he wanted to say, things he needed to tell his little brother before he died, but his tongue was heavy in his mouth, his lips going numb.

“Dean, no, you can’t go like this, you’re gonna be okay,” Sam begged, but Dean could barely hear him, or the prayers that came next, shouted hoarsely at the world as the last of Dean’s strength failed him and he slumped forwards into Sam’s shaking chest.

The world flashed and flickered around him, a thundering in his ears as if the barn was being torn down around them, and just as his vision began to fade, grey swirling at the edges, Cas was there.

“Cas.” He rasped, but he wasn’t sure he’d even made a sound, he wasn’t sure of anything. The world tipped and the pain in his back seared again as he felt his knees hit the floor, and then he was gone.

But then the familiar feel of grace was enveloping him, pushing into his skin and drawing him back out. The pain in his back was fading into nothing rather than the numbness of before, replaced with the feel of _Cas_. It felt like warmth and light and _home_.

When Cas had healed him in the past it had been over in a flash, the grace pushing into him and then retreating again in a bright pulse. Now, it felt dimmer, weaker, but it pushed and pushed, rebuilding him as it went, and it didn’t retreat. It simply faded into nothingness as Dean gasped back to consciousness. Cas, who had been holding him up, slumped forwards into his chest, forehead lolling onto Dean’s shoulder as they knelt on the cold barn floor.

Dean flexed his arms from where they had been lying limply at his sides and brought them up to clutch at Cas in front of him, push him back so he could see his face. His hands travelled from his shoulders, to his neck, his cheeks, eyes roaming his slack face. His recently restarted heart thundered in his chest, already assuming the worst. He couldn’t get Cas back just to lose him immediately. Surely the world couldn’t be _that_ cruel.

“Cas?” He said, voice rough, shaking him slightly. Cas’ eyes flickered open, and took a second before focussing on Dean, who slumped in relief.

“Dean,” He said, breathless and uncertain.

“It’s me,” Dean said, and pulled Cas back against him into a hug this time. Cas’ exhausted arms came up to clutch at his back as they sagged against each other.

Dean didn’t pull away before searching out Sam over Cas’ shoulder stood a few feet away, tear tracks drying on his face.

“Help me with him,” He said, and Sam nodded stiffly. Together they manoeuvred Cas into the back seat of the impala, where he sagged against the window, eyes sliding shut. They got the two boys in after him and told them to sit tight.

Only then did Dean turn to Sam, taking in his tense, trembling posture and pinched expression before he pulled him close. Sam crashed into him, gripping at him like a drowning man, his chest shuddering against Dean as he fought back sobs. Dean rubbed his back gently.

“C’mon. I’m alright,” He said.

“I thought I lost you,” Sam said, his voice cracking.

“Gonna take a lot more than a couple of vamps and a rusty rebar to finish me off,” Dean said, forcing a smile as he pulled away. Sam grit his teeth and nodded, fresh tears glinting on his cheeks. 

Dean’s jacket still had a jagged tear through the back of it, the edges hardening uncomfortably with drying blood and poking him in the back when he leant back against his seat in the impala. He shuddered, the feeling hitting just a little too close to home, and clambered back out of the car to pull it off and chuck it in the trunk. After a moments hesitation he pulled off his flannel and undershirt too, not fancying scrubbing blood out of the leather seats. He used the bundled up t-shirt to awkwardly wipe up the blood on his back as quickly as he could in the frigid night air before pulling on a spare, slightly musty t-shirt that was bundled at the bottom of the trunk.

He felt slightly naked with only the one layer, but it was better than the blood soaked jacket. He shivered as he slid back into the car and turned the heat up, glancing over his shoulder at Cas already asleep against window in the back. However he’d managed to get out of the Empty had clearly hit him hard, but he was here. He was really here. 

* * *

“So you’re back?” Dean said, setting a beer down in front of Cas three hours later, after having dropped the kids off at a police station and hightailing it out of there before too many questions could be asked. Cas looked tired still, but not as pale and ill looking as he had in the impala.

“Apparently,” He said. Dean exchanged a look with Sam, who had calmed down on the drive back to the bunker but still looked slightly shaken, clutching at his beer bottle like a comfort blanket.

“How?” Sam piped up at last.

Cas locked eyes with Sam. “I heard your prayer.”

“That’s it? I’ve prayed to-“ Dean cut himself off, clenching his teeth. Cas looked pained, and Dean found himself both hating the space the table put between them and grateful for it.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Cas said apologetically. “The first thing I heard was Sam. His prayer was so loud I think every celestial being could hear it.”

“So that was all, he was loud enough to get to you in the empty and you came back?”

“I think it was more that Jack heard it. He must have…amplified it. And it woke me up. I think it was his influence that brought me back this time. Last time I spoke to the Empty and convinced it to let me go, but this time I woke up and then was in the barn with you.”

“Jack said he was going to be hands off,” Sam said, sitting a little further upright.

“You changed his mind, I could feel his desperation. He wants to be hands off but I don’t think he could bare to see Dean hurt.” Cas said, and Sam smiled to himself. Jack’s absence was suddenly a heavy weight in the room.

“And what about you? Are you doing okay? Because for a minute there you didn’t look so hot,” Dean said, clutching his beer bottle tensely despite his nonchalant tone. Cas’ eyes pierced his when he finally looked up at him.

“I think I’m fully human now, or as close as matters.”

“So what, you burnt up the last of your grace on saving me?” Dean demanded.

“Yes,” Cas said simply, fixing him with a look that stopped all of Dean’s arguments in his throat. He nodded and cast his gaze down to the table, unable to look at Cas. Over and over again Cas sacrificed himself for Dean and he would never be able to repay him.

A yawn suddenly overtook Cas’s face, leaving him looking slightly startled, Dean smiled softly.

“Alright, sleeping beauty. Bedtime for the fallen angel.”

Cas fixed him with another look that Dean didn’t have time to try to pick apart before it was gone.

“Do I still have a room?”

“Yeah, Cas. Always,” Dean said, hoping Cas knew he meant it. Hoping he’d stay this time. Cas nodded and stood to leave. Dean watched him go with a sudden ache in his chest and he realised he wasn’t ready to let him out of his sight just yet. He still wasn’t totally convinced this was all real and he wasn’t just hallucinating as he died in that damn barn in the middle of nowhere.

Sam shifted in his seat next to him and Dean glanced over. He fixed him with a small smile that was entirely too knowing, and, _oh_. Sam knew. Had always known. Probably before Cas did, _definitely_ before Dean did. Of course he knew. How many years had he watched these two dance around each other? He’d sat on the edge of too many _lovers spats_ , as he’d taken to calling them, to count. Of course he _knew_.

“Go on,” He said, glancing after Cas’ retreating form with a knowing smile because he _knew._ And had never said a damn word. Dean only hesitated for a second before placing his beer firmly on the table and taking off after him.

Cas had made it as far as the bathroom when Dean caught up to him. The door was open and he was bent over the sink washing his face. When he straightened up he caught Dean’s eye over his shoulder in the mirror, and Dean wanted to laugh hysterically at the role reversal. But if he let emotion bubble out of him that freely he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop it from turning into sobs, so he just stood there braced in the doorway until Cas turned to him, grabbing a towel and patting his face dry.

“Dean,” Cas said, and god his name on Cas’ lips again made something in Dean’s chest constrict.

“Cas, we need to talk,” He said before he lost his nerve.

“No, it’s okay. I already know,” Cas said, because that’s what they do. They dance around each other and assumes they already know the other’s mind without ever actually saying a damn word.

“Dammit Cas, no you don’t. That’s what you said in Purgatory and then you died thinking-“ He took a breath and shut his eyes briefly, steeling himself. “You died thinking I don’t-“ The words stuck in his throat, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Dean, I know,” Cas tried again. Dean shook his head to cut him off and took a step closer, grabbing Cas’ hand in front of him.

“You have me, Cas,” He said firmly so his voice wouldn’t shake.

“Dean-“ Cas still wasn’t getting it so he pulled his hand up, placing it firmly on his chest, covering it with his own. His heart beat so hard against his ribcage it was like it was trying to break out to join Cas’ hand.

“You have me. You’ve always had me,” He said, softer now. Something in Cas’ expression melted, dissolving from firm resignation to hope, wonderful glorious hope.

“Stay. This time, please. Stay.” _With me,_ he didn’t say. _Forever._ _Screw the bunker, stay with_ ** _me._**

He wasn’t sure Cas understood him even now, but his chest was too tight to continue, and Cas smiled and nodded, his hand warm against Dean’s chest.

“Alright.”

“Stay with me tonight?” Dean asked, his voice small. He didn’t say he couldn’t bare to let Cas out of his sight just yet, or that he wanted to wrap himself around him and never let go, but Cas nodded anyway, so Dean lead him back to his room.

They quietly changed into pyjamas, Dean lending Cas a pair of his, as it’d been years since he needed any, and neither of them wanted to venture back out to Cas’ room to see if they could find some. Dean’s chest grew warm at the sight of Cas in his clothes and he had to look away before Cas caught him staring. They brushed their teeth hip to hip at Dean’s tiny sink, and it felt so domestic Dean thought maybe he _did_ die and this was heaven. But the hardwood floor was uncomfortably cold under his bare feet, and he thought heaven should at least have under floor heating, so this must be real.

He refused to let it be awkward in the dim light of his room. He simply crawled under the covers, flicking down the edge to his right in invitation for Cas to follow him, which he did. His weight dipped the mattress as he climbed in, and a cool gust of air whooshed under the covers as he lifted them, to be replaced quickly by Cas’ warmth, seeping into the bed invitingly.

As much as Dean wanted to spew his guts right there, unburden his whole soul and confess everything to Cas, he found himself utterly unable to disturb the gentle space between them. Cas looked weary in a way he hadn’t since the last time he was human. But this time, Dean thought, there didn’t appear to be a sadness to it. He gazed at Dean with tired eyes, but he looked content, and Dean thought maybe he could live in this moment forever.

“Go to sleep Cas,” He murmured, and Cas’ eyes flick closed obediently.

* * *

When he woke he was warmer than normal. He was rolled half onto his stomach, pillow shoved between his shoulder and ear as usual, but there was something firmer alongside it, and his left hand was reached out, resting easily on something warm and solid. Slowly, he opened his eyes, the night before all coming back to him in a rush.

Cas was sleeping on his back, his chin tipped towards Dean, close enough that he could feel his soft breaths against his face. His left arm was splayed out, jammed under Dean’s pillow, and Dean didn’t even know _how_ he managed to get it under there. Dean’s hand was resting on Cas’ chest, and he could feel his all too human heart thrumming away under his fingertips. It felt intimate in a way he’d never experienced before, somehow more so than if they had woken up wrapped around each other. The easy, loose intimacy felt like they could have been lovers for years. And really, who would have corrected them if they’d said so. When Cas’ eyes opened blearily, Dean waited for it to turn awkward, but the feeling never came.

The thing in Dean’s chest didn’t snap, it’s nothing so sudden or violent, it melted away, so lightly that it’s not falling at all, not really. It’s like when you pop the bag in an ice pack and suddenly the whole pack is cold, except Dean’s chest was warm and full of light. He thought maybe this was how Cas felt when he let himself feel happy in Dean’s presence, let the love bubble out of him with enough force to drag him down to the Empty.

It’s the most natural thing in the world when his hand travels up Cas’ chest to rest lightly against his neck, thumb stroking softly at his jaw. When he leans in those last few inches and kisses Cas, it’s not world ending. Reality doesn’t shatter around them. It’s just the press of lips on lips, sleep warm and solid and real, and Cas presses back despite being only half awake. The light in Dean’s chest expands, filling every inch of him, and he’s finally certain that this isn’t heaven, because nothing has ever felt more real and more right in his life than this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> there's so many more things I want to fix about the finale so maybe ill write something else at some point or possibly continue this but just know that eileen is alive and she and sam take a step back from hunting to run a network to help hunters on a larger scale and dean and cas retire and get a bar or something idk but they actually get to be fucking happy and no one dies of old age at 63


End file.
